Dare the Wolf: A Bully Boys Novel of Paranormal Romance

by Cassandra Moore

  The nice lady who answered the customer service line couldn’t tell Anita much, since her name wasn’t on the account. Lou had signed it up in his name after doing a deal with the local cellular phone shop owner. He’d brought the nice smartphone home to her as a surprise. Once she explained, though, the representative bent the rules far enough to explain that the account owner had disabled that line this afternoon. He would have to enable it again for the number to work. The representative also kindly explained to Anita that all cell phones, even those without a carrier, could call 911 for help in an emergency.

  Calling the police to rescue her stupid, stubborn ass sounded worse than continuing her walk through the heat and cactus. Come on, Jake. At least give me a ride, even if you don’t want to deal with my problems anymore.

  As easy as it was to descend into the worry that Jake would want to cut ties, she still remembered how he felt wrapped around her last night. Protective. Comforting. Eager to assure her she’d stay safe in his trailer, with him there to keep the dangers of the world at bay. Lou had blustered for years about how no one with half a mind would mess with him, how he’d put down any Ferals stupid enough to set foot on their property. Yet every word felt empty, just another brick in a fragile wall of false bravado.

  Perhaps he’d promised to keep her safe from the world, but she’d never truly let down her guard with him. Deep within, her instincts wondered who would keep her safe from him. Jake had put her at ease from the moment he’d offered her a place in his bed to sleep. After those hours spent nestled together, sheltered from the world in his arms, after that kiss that had melted her heart and left her weak in the knees, he wouldn’t abandon her on the road, would he?

  She wanted to believe he wouldn’t. But it had been so long since a man had earned her trust, she’d forgotten how to have faith that he would come through.

  By the time the sun first touched the western horizon, Anita had reached the long, lonely stretch of pavement that led out to Jake’s home. Few cars came out this way, a back road that led to more back roads, used to reach tiny bedroom towns people forgot existed. Another few miles, she’d reach the trailer, where she could at least get a drink out of his outside spigot and sit on the steps to wait.

  She trudged on in silence. It took her a quarter of a mile to realize how quiet the land had become as she made her way down the road. No city sounds traveled out this far, and no traffic noises, either. But no mourning doves cooed, either, and no quail cried out to find the members of their coveys who had wandered too far away. She hadn’t seen a lizard scuttle between the shade patches under creosote, bursage, and desert broom bushes for the last mile, or rabbits, or ground squirrels…

  The hair on the back of her neck stood up. She glanced around to the desert surrounding her, but saw nothing. Just the desolate land full of cactus and twiggy trees broken up by stones from the mountains.

  She walked faster.

  For several yards, she thought leftover paranoia from hearing the Ferals the night before had taken over. Imagination provided monsters where none existed. Until she heard a bush rustle, behind her and to the left.

  She spun around. Nothing.

  It’s my imagination. Nothing more than that. There’s jack all out here. The Bullies took care of the pack last night. I’m too close to town for Ferals to be out here. Then again, it didn’t have to be Ferals. Mountain lions could come down from the hills, though they didn’t often attack humans. Javelina, like most wild pigs, could take offense to a human’s presence and charge them.

  But as she turned and walked toward Jake’s house again, she would have sworn she was being followed. Stalked.

  In the distance, an engine roared, still far away but audible in the stillness. Anita thought about turning around to head back for town, but by now, she was closer to Jake’s. She considered outright running towards Jake’s, but it had been years since she’d tried to run even one mile, let alone several. And experts advised running from Ferals could incite them to chase and attack.

  Experts also advised running could convince Ferals you weren’t worth the effort to chase. Experts advised making noise to scare Ferals off, and not making noise to attract them, too. Experts had no damn idea what they were talking about.

  She decided to walk on. Perhaps they would lose interest. At the least, it would buy her time for help to come. What help? Jake? His pack? The cell phone representative had said all phones would call 911, even without service, but Anita knew what they would tell her. The local police couldn’t handle Feral calls. They didn’t have the numbers, or the training. Highway Patrol would take too long to arrive. In the smaller towns, 911 operators were advised to direct callers towards their local packs.

  Anita kicked over a fallen palo verde branch to make certain no scorpions or other unpleasant creatures had nested under it. As she bent to pick it up, a bush rustled two feet away. She yelped and jumped back. A rough bark of laughter prickled the goosebumps up on her arms.

  They’re playing with their food. She forced herself to take a deep breath. The stick wouldn’t do her much good anyway. It could stay there. She backed out to the middle of the road to walk on the dotted line. That wouldn’t do her much good, either, but at least she’d have a little more notice to see the Ferals coming for her.

  The motor sounded louder now, driving up from the way she’d come. Closer. She’d listened to enough vehicles, as the wife of a mechanic, to recognize the throaty growl of a powerful motorcycle engine. A trickle of hope threaded through her thoughts. A motorcycle probably meant a Bully, and a Bully could mean… She turned around to retrace her steps.

  Gold eyes shone out from a large desert broom bush near the edge of the road to her left. She edged right. Eyes opened there, from behind a bursage shrub, one gold, one green. They’d crept up behind her and flanked her on each side of the road. To go back the way she had come, she would have to pass between them.

  Then it would only be a question of which one attacked her first.

  “I’m not afraid of you!” she shouted. “Fuck off! I’m not afraid!”

  The mismatched eyes blinked. In the fading western glow, she could see the bush tremble as the Feral changed position. Grey-green foliage parted.

  News programs and sensational internet sites showed pictures of Ferals every other day as they exploited tragedies for exposure. Anita had thought she’d know what to expect if ever she saw one in person, but she’d been wrong. No one could prepare themselves for what stood before her. Low light could not disguise enough of the warped flesh to save her from nightmares that would haunt her for years. If she lived that long.

  It had begun its life as a human. A man, she thought. Hard to say when that had changed. During the Great Beast Plague, maybe, or after if he’d found a Feral with enough presence of mind not to kill him outright. Disconcerting intelligence lurked behind his mismatched gaze, enough to toy with her and drive her into a state of fear. Enough to know it had a choice on what to do with her when it caught her. Bad enough to end up dinner. Worse to end up – that.

  A twisted amalgamation of man and animal. Shapechanged in parts because it couldn’t control the beast within. A mountain lion’s eyes and ears. A human’s mouth with a puma’s teeth. Patchy gold fur on too-long arms. Claws that split the human fingertips they sprouted from. A tail always in motion, lashing and lashing as the inner conflict played out. Eat or pass on the plague. Rend flesh, or perpetuate the disease.

  “Afraid now?” it said, words mangled by the shape of its mouth.

  “Yes,” she said, and she was. Of the mangled, misshapen form. Of the teeth, the claws. Of the primal, instinct-deep wrongness that reminded her humanity did not matter. Sentience did not matter. In this moment, she was nothing more than prey.

  Light spilled over them as the motorcycle shot around a curve, headed straight for them. The Feral snapped his head to look over his shoulder, anger and fear clear on his face. He glanced toward Anita again, then back to the motorcycle, wei
ghing which he should deal with first.

  That moment of indecision cost him. The bike was on them faster than Anita thought possible. Tires squealed as the motorcycle whipped a fast turn to clip the creature with the back wheel. It flew several yards to decimate the creosote it landed in. As it flailed in the shrub’s branches, the bike gunned forward, toward the bush where the second Feral had tried to hide.

  It broke and ran, smaller and younger than the first. The biker didn’t care. He rode it down despite the creature’s diversion from the pavement into the desert. Anita watched as the driver grew larger before her eyes, bulked up and strained the hems of his clothing with the additional muscle mass. Fur replaced the hair on his head, while two upright ears and a long, lupine snout replaced his human features. Extra strength and heightened reflexes allowed him to navigate his motorcycle with ease through the rough, rugged terrain.

  No one rode like the Bully Boys.

  He swerved around a large prickly pear and made a sharp cut left once he’d cleared the cactus. The younger Feral didn’t expect the sudden maneuver. It scrambled, couldn’t control its forward headlong flight, and crashed into the rider’s leg. Momentum sent it spinning into a jagged rock. Anita could hear the crack of its femur over the sound of the engine. It lay still, stunned.

  The first Feral had recovered its balance. Rage burned in its eyes as it charged toward the oncoming rider, shrieking terrible sounds Anita would hear in her mind for weeks. The rider lifted his head to howl his own challenge as he twisted the accelerator to gun the engine. Then he was flat against the tank, low and sleek, one with the machine.

  One furred arm shot out to snag the Feral as the bike blurred by. The creature tried to return the attack, but the werewolf was too fast, too experienced for the creature to counter. Claws sunk into the creature’s flesh as the werewolf caught it by one meaty shoulder. Pained, furious screaming shrilled over the thunder of the engine as the rider accelerated with the Feral still held beside the motorcycle. Rough pavement tore skin from the creature’s bones. A flailing leg ended up in front of the back wheel as the Feral twisted in an attempt to escape.

  Escape, it did, though not as it intended. Its leg caught the wheel. Treads meant to grip the ground grabbed flesh instead. Bloody meat tore as the tire pulled the creature out of the werewolf’s grip and ran the leg over.

  Dust clotted in oozing wounds as the Feral tumbled across the ground. It came to an abrupt stop against a stone that jutted up from the ground.

  Again the motorcycle wheeled around to return to the scene. Neither Feral had pulled itself together through the pain to mount another attack. The bike pulled to a halt near where Anita stood, shocked, on the side of the road. Up close, Anita recognized the marks on the bike, and more, the clothing on the one who rode it.

  Jake had come for her after all.

  She’d never seen him in his half-shifted form before. Bigger than she had thought. Covered in light grey fur that she wanted to touch, but feared to. Werewolves had a beast’s instincts when their blood ran hot. Jake would never hurt her, that much she knew down to her core, but shifted like this, he wasn’t only Jake. He was more than a man, more than a wolf, with blood beneath his claws and a sneer on his muzzle.

  He kicked the stand down and climbed off his bike, gold eyes locked on the larger of the Ferals who had threatened her. As he strode past her, he spared her an intent glance. His gaze darted over her, feet to head, then locked on her eyes. “Look away,” he said, voice more a growl in the shape of words than proper speech.

  Anita had nothing to prove. Not to herself, not to him. She turned her head to watch the other way for other threats. The screaming that ended in a sudden gurgle was enough. She didn’t need the visual along with it.

  She didn’t turn back around until she heard Jake speak in his normal, human’s voice. “Shane. There were two Ferals on the road out to my place. I’ve stuck the bodies between some rocks a couple miles up from the house. You’ll know the spot. Get someone out here to clean them up.” A pause. “I’ve got something to take care of. We’ve got a problem, Shane. I’ll talk to you about it tomorrow. Be careful tonight.”

  He stood, a shadow against the sunset sky, eyes on her as he held the phone to his ear. When he’d finished his conversation, he stuck the device in his pocket. “You all right?”

  She licked her lips. “Yeah,” she said, an automatic response she didn’t think she meant. “Little shook up, though.”

  “I’ll bet.” His lips stayed flattened into a thin line. Tension wrote itself all through his face, in the tic in his cheek as he clenched his jaw, in the furrow between his brows. Maybe it was the residual adrenaline from the fight. Or a reaction to something his alpha had said on the phone.

  Or maybe he’s angry with me. Anita’s stomach clenched. After the incident with Lou earlier, when he’d threatened her and belittled her and left her to trudge through the heat, after the long walk here, the breathless terror of the Ferals that had stalked her, after the battle she’d lived through a couple minutes ago… After everything she’d gone through today, she didn’t think she could take Jake’s anger. All day, she had hoped he would call, or show up on the road to take her home.

  The dying day’s last hope for support and comfort. Without him, she’d have to drag herself to a hotel to spend a lonely night wondering what in hell she would do now. If he’d decided she came with too much baggage, or she’d made the wrong decisions today, well, wouldn’t that cap off one of the worst days she’d survived.

  “If you’ll loan me your phone to make a call, I can get a cab out here to take me somewhere,” she said. A preemptory strike against the words she feared he’d say.

  “No. You’re coming with me,” he said. The way he said it didn’t brook much argument.

  She argued anyway. “Thank you, Jake, but you’ve done enough for me today. You’ve got the pack to deal with, and I probably caused you trouble, and-”

  “Anita!” he barked. A deep breath, then his tone softened. “Get on the bike with me. We’re going back to my place where it’s safe.”

  Safe. In her rush to defend herself against more emotional injury today, she’d forgotten the very real physical dangers they might face. Just because he’d beaten the obvious two didn’t mean a second pack of Ferals wouldn’t come along for an unpleasant surprise. Fuck. I’m not thinking clearly.

  “All right,” she said. “Let’s go back to your place.”

  He didn’t waste any time with more words. Instead, he threw a leg over the motorcycle’s seat and scooted forward to make room for her to get behind him. Any other time, she would have insisted on a helmet, but he didn’t have one with him and they needed to get out of the open desert. Werewolves got to ignore safety rules humans couldn’t when it suited them, and she trusted his reflexes to get them safely home this time.

  Caught up in a momentary hesitation, she paused as she settled behind him. Riding pillion felt intimate, pressed against his back. How much more so would it feel to wrap her arms around him and cling as he drove? Yet he gave her no choice. At her hesitation, he reached back to take her arm. Heat from his body radiated through his clothes. She could feel his strength, the rise and fall of his lungs as he breathed while he pressed her arm to his side. Nothing to do, then, but to wrap her other arm around him, and to press her cheek against his back.

  The motorcycle rumbled between her legs as he fired the engine up. One more squeeze against her arm to indicate she should hold on tight, then they were in motion. Wind whipped her hair behind her as they flew down the twilit road. So close to him, she could smell him, leather and sweat and the indefinable scent that belonged only to him. Desert blurred into a stream of greens, browns, and deepening, bloody reds as the sunset stained the land.

  In the rumble of the engine and the rush of the wind, her fears faded. No one could touch them here, just her and Jake and the machine that carried them down the winding road. They could drive on, past his house, past the city li
mits, following a line of pavement that stretched on forever. It would carry them to places where no one knew their names, or the lives they’d left behind. Places far away from the troubles that fettered them here. Los Angeles. Lou and his social standing. Small-town gossip that ruined simple lives.

  She tightened her arms around him, a hero she couldn’t swear would want the damaged damsel he’d pulled from distress, and willed him to drive on. Let the night fall around them. Let the town fend for itself. Let them come to a stop anywhere but Coyote Trail, which had turned from home to hostile territory at the speed of cellular service. No one would care about Lou, or about a woman with a pale band of skin around her left ring finger. To them, it would be nothing more than an emotional scar worn on the skin, fading with each ray of sun that baked the color back in.

  Jake turned the bike into his driveway, and the fantasy ended. She couldn’t outrun her problems. Neither could she avoid the conversation with Jake, where he might tell her he couldn’t have anything to do with her.

  They said nothing as they dismounted. His expression didn’t change from the intent, focused scowl as he walked once around the trailer to look for signs of intrusion before they went inside. Even with such a small place, he preceded her in the door, and checked each room for safety before he would leave her side. Only when he was satisfied with the security did he steer her towards the couch.

  She sat. He didn’t. By the restless shift of his weight from foot to foot, she knew he would have paced if he’d had the space to do so. Instead, he took a step away with his back to her, then turned to step closer again. A restless wolf, agitated, upset, hot on the heels of a fight.

  One of them had to break the silence. She cleared her throat. “Jake, I know you’re mad at me-”

  “What?” He didn’t let her finish. One hand slammed flat against the wall. “No! Anita, I’m not mad at you. Why would you think that?”